


The Interview

by kitausu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitausu/pseuds/kitausu
Summary: “So you’re Lance. Interesting. I can definitely see it. You’re totally his type.”Lance felt the blood rush to his cheeks as this girl, roughly about his own age, sized him up like a plate of meat.He was in the process of attempting to formulate some kind of response to what was easily in the top 10 weirdest conversations list he had ever had when Shiro walked out of the office directly behind the desk.Shiro looked—well Shiro looked amazing. Shiro always looked amazing. He had looked good teaching Lance’s senior level Medieval studies class back in undergrad, and in Lance’s bed with goofy sex hair, and right now with his cheeks flushed and eyes wide like he hadn’t been expecting Lance at all even though that was obviously untrue.





	The Interview

Lance tugged fruitlessly at the cuffs of his sleeves, trying to make them just a half inch longer. He hadn’t worn this suit in 5 years easily, and he also hadn’t thought to check the washing/drying instructions before sending it through Hunk’s admittedly less than reliable machine. How was he supposed to know you dry cleaned things like this? He had never dry cleaned anything in his life.

So, for the what felt like the thousandth time that morning, he tugged at his sleeves, the bottom of his jacket, adjusted his tie, and then ran through the circuit again five minutes later.

Hunk groaned, ready to throw a pillow at Lance if he went through the whole process one more time. It felt like Lance’s Uber would never come at this rate and Hunk was about ready to kill him.

“Lance, you are going to be fine. Coran recommended you for the job, they liked your resume, all you have to do is not come off like an idiot and you’ll get the job.”

The look Lance shot him was one of hopeless despair. Of course, _not looking like an idiot_ was Lance’s primary concern! Looking like an idiot was his specialty! Being an idiot was also high on the list considering that if he had already had his shit together he wouldn’t even be on a gap year and in need of a teaching job in the first place.

Except, that was now exactly where he was, and he _needed_ the job, even with Hunk letting him crash on his couch rent free until his PhD program started next year (and the fear of not getting into one was so unbelievably real Lance was just disassociating from the whole concept for now).

Lance’s phone pinged suddenly in his hand, nearly sending him three feet in the air in shock. His Uber was here. Okay, right. He had this. Time to go…to his death…probably not….but probably yes.

Hank’s hands on his shoulders then would have been comforting if they hadn’t been pulling him from the couch and shoving him out the door to his doom.

“You’ll be fine. Don’t forget to breath.”

Lance took a giant breath right then as if to prove that, yes, he could at least manage that much.

Hunk shut the door in his face.

 

Because it was 100% exactly what his life was like, the Uber got lost. He was using a functioning GPS _and_ had Lance giving him directions, and he still got lost. Meaning, the extra 30 minutes Lance had given himself to cry in the bathroom had dwindled down to a measly 10 minutes to find the office and hope he wasn’t late to his death…well, his interview.

When he did make it to the English department building, it was with exactly 2 minutes to spare. He could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck, dampening the collar of his dress shirt and making the suit feel stifling even in the air-conditioned building.

Lance gave himself 60 seconds to figure out how to rework his lungs before stepping into the brightly lit office and giving the receptionist his award-winning smile, dimples and all.

Of course, she barely looked up, her eyes glazed over and trained on the computer while she asked for his name in an incredibly disinterested tone of voice like his answer honestly couldn’t matter to her in the least.

Weirdly, her complete lack of professionality made Lance feel a smidge better for the whole two seconds between giving her his name and the wide-eyed look of intense interest that she suddenly turned and trained on his face.

“Lance McClain? That’s you?”

Lance looked around, hoping that maybe there was a screen behind him that was drawing her attention. No luck.

“Um…yes? I have…I have an interview?”

That definitely wasn’t supposed to sound like a question.

The girl’s face split into what could only be considered a truly evil grin, whatever had held her interest on her terminal long forgotten.

“So _you’re_ Lance. Interesting. I can definitely see it. You’re totally his type.”

Lance felt the blood rush to his cheeks as this girl, roughly about his own age, sized him up like a plate of meat.

He was in the process of attempting to formulate some kind of response to what was easily in the top 10 weirdest conversations list he had ever had when Shiro walked out of the office directly behind the desk.

Shiro looked—well Shiro looked amazing. Shiro always looked amazing. He had looked good teaching Lance’s senior level Medieval studies class back in undergrad, and in Lance’s bed with goofy sex hair, and right now with his cheeks flushed and eyes wide like he hadn’t been expecting Lance at all even though that was obviously untrue.

“Lance, hey—I mean hello, Mr. McClain—Lance…”

Shiro always stumbled over his words when he was nervous. He also always ran his fingers through his white fringe, just like he was doing now, pulling the line of his suit tight against muscles he certainly hadn’t lost in the two years they had been apart.

After an eternity of just staring at Shiro, Lance forced his eyes back to girl at the front desk, who honestly looked like the cat who got the canary as she looked between the two incredibly awkward men.

“Your 11 o’clock is here.”

She smirked and Lance felt his whole body go hot as Shiro just stepped to the side and motioned Lance into the room.

They both stood awkwardly at the entrance, Lance trying to decide if he should sit and Shiro trying to figure out if he should or definitely should not shut the door.

He shut the door anyway and they both ignored the laugh that echoed through the wood.

In silence, Shiro took the highbacked leather chair behind the desk and motioned for Lance to take the seat in front.

They sat like that for long seconds that stretched into minutes and maybe hours before all the air left Shiro’s body and Lance was suddenly filled up with every ounce of inadequacy he had tried to stamp out over the past two years since Shiro broke up with him.

“I suppose, there is no point in me asking if I have a chance at this job then.”

Lance laughed bitterly, trying to figure out why he was still here. There was no way Shiro would hire the undergrad who had been so pathetically lovesick over him that Shiro had dated him out of pity.

He was about to stand up when the silence stretched too long, but then Shiro was kneeling in front of him, blocking his way and dirtying the knees of his suit on the carpet at Lance’s feet.

“Lance.”

Lance waited for Shiro to say more, but he was just looking up at him, mouthing his name from beneath the fringe that had grown longer since Lance used to pull at it to tease him awake in the early morning light.

Eventually, Shiro reached out and tentatively took Lance’s hands in his, clenching them to his chest even though they felt limp in his grip.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Lance wanted to wail and kick Shiro away from him, instead he let out a barely controlled sob.

“Liar.”

If one word could kill, this probably would have done it. Shiro looked gutted and for a second Lance was sure he would let go of his hands and tell him to leave. Except, Shiro just held on tighter, leaning closer so his chest pressed to Lance’s knees, holding him still.

“It’s not a lie. I’ve missed you every day. I’ve thought about you every day. When Coran told me your situation and I got your application for the adjunct job I could barely wait to see you again.”

Lance wanted to look away, but Shiro sounded so earnest and he had never been a good liar, at least two years ago he hadn’t been.

“Why did you break up with me?”

He hadn’t meant to ask that, he had wanted to redirect the entire conversation back to something professional but the words had just spilled out of him like bitter acid he couldn’t keep inside anymore.

Shiro could always read him so well, read the insecurities in his voice that he wasn’t saying like words on a page.

_Why did you stop wanting me? What was wrong with me? Was I ever good enough for you?_

Those were the words Lance really meant but couldn’t manage to say.

“Fuck, Lance, you always think the worst of yourself. I broke up with you because—because I didn’t want to tie you to a teacher a decade older then you when you have so much potential! You have the entire world in front of you, and I couldn’t take that away from you just because I selfishly wanted you close.”

It was obvious Shiro wanted to run his hands through his hair to dispel some of his own agitation, but his hands remained firm around Lance’s like he was afraid that if he let go, Lance would disappear into thin air.

Over the past two years, Lance had tried to convince himself it had all been fake for Shiro, that Shiro had never wanted him, that maybe even Shiro had used him. He tried to make himself hate Shiro.

It had never worked, and here, looking at the desperate way Shiro was gripping onto his hands, Lance remembered why it was impossible to hate Shiro.

Shiro didn’t press him to speak, and Lance didn’t offer a response, too much in shock from the turn of events to even begin to formulate a response. He did, however, gently squeeze Shiro’s hands in his and felt the back of his neck heat at the tentative smile Shiro gave him in return.

When the pain in Shiro’s knees eventually became too much, he stood, still refusing to let go of Lance’s hands.

Instead, he leaned against the front of his desk, letting their arms dangle between them as Shiro spoke.

“Do you, do you still want me to interview you for the job?”

Lance wanted to laugh at how absurd it was. Here he was, holding hands with his ex, about to be interviewed for a teaching job. Lance really wanted to get away and sort out his feelings, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Shiro just yet, besides, he really did need the job.

So, he let Shiro interview him, gently swinging their joined hands between them as he answered questions on teaching philosophy and classroom control methods.

At the end of the interview, when Shiro asked Lance to get lunch, he said yes without hesitation.

Even though he was still mad at Shiro, still completely thrown off by the strange turn of events, he couldn’t leave Shiro without knowing he would see him again.


End file.
